


The Toadless Boy

by terri_testing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terri_testing/pseuds/terri_testing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On that first Hogwarts Express ride, who rescued whom?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Toadless Boy

Hermione had hoped to get a compartment all to herself so she could get some more last-minute reading in. 

Only it turned out that that skinny black-haired boy had taken the very last empty compartment on the whole entire train. 

It wasn’t fair; she’d just bet that _he_ hadn’t been planning to study all trip like she had been. 

Mummy looked at the compartment next to his with an encouraging nod.

It had all girls in it, and they looked about Hermione’s age. 

She swallowed.

 

“Now, dear,” Mummy had said after that funny little Professor Flitwick had left, “this is a fresh start for you socially as well.  This will be a chance for you really to make friends.  For the first time ever you’ll be among people who are really _like_ you, and I’m _sure_ that you’ll find that that will make _ever_ such a difference!”

Hermione hated it when Mummy gushed like that.  It made everything out of her mouth sound false, even though Hermione knew that Mummy would never tell a lie. 

Only, Hermione knew exactly what Mummy would say she should do now.   She smiled bravely at Mummy and Daddy and pushed open the compartment door.  “Hello!  That last seat isn’t taken, is it?” 

The girl in the corner said unenthusiastically, “No, it’s free.”  The others stopped talking and stared at Hermione. 

Daddy hauled in her trunk, and Hermione sat down in the empty seat by the door.  Mummy pecked her on her cheek and said, “Be good, have fun, and remember to call—oh, right.  To write us every week—Daddy and I will want to know how our girl is doing.”            

“Yes, Mum.  ‘Bye, Dad.”

They left, and Hermione looked at the other girls, who were all looking back at her.

No one else had buck teeth like hers, of course.  But at least she wouldn’t be the tallest one in class, for once—the dark-haired girl sitting across from her was much bigger.  Hermione was glad of that; she was really tired of how being the oldest usually also made her the tallest.  The big girl had a cat on her lap, and there were three cages in the compartment.  Only one of them had anything in it, though:  an owl.

None of the girls had books out. 

Hermione looked at the big girl and braced herself. “Hi!  I’m Hermione Granger!  Who are you?” 

“Millie Bulstrode,”  the other girl muttered.  “Uh—this is Pansy Parkinson,” she gestured at the girl in the corner, “and—” 

Hermione was usually just as good at remembering names as everything else, but sometimes when she was nervous it was hard to keep track.  The only name that really stuck was the black girl sitting next to Hermione, the last one introduced, who was named Sally-Ann Perks. 

Hermione smiled determinedly at them all.   “Aren’t you all ever so excited to be going to Hogwarts?  I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, from what that funny little man told me and what I’ve read—“

The girl in the corner—Pansy?  Patsy?  something like that— interrupted; “Read?!  Oh.  Another Muggle-born, then.  Sally-Anne is one too.”  Her tone didn’t make that a compliment.

The girl sitting next to Patsy had gone a bit stiff.  She said, “Funny little man?  Do you perhaps mean Professor Flitwick, my sister’s head of house?”

Her voice was rather cold.  Hermione tried to make a recovery.  “Well, but he is quite short, isn’t he?  And his ears are a little bit fu— unusual.  But of course there’s nothing _wrong_ with being small.  Or with being big, of course, either.” 

She smiled anxiously across at Millie, who crossed her arms.

The girl with the sister announced, apparently to the air, “Professor Flitwick was a renowned dueling champion in his youth.  And he publishes regularly in _Challenges in Charming_.” 

“ _Challenges in Charming_?” Hermione felt herself on firmer footing there.  “Is that, like, a wizard research periodical?  My parents’ profession—they’re both dentists—means they need to keep up with advances in their field.  So I know all about professional publications in general, of course, but no one ever told me that wizards have them too.  Though that would make sense.  I got ever so many books from Flourish and Blotts, for background reading, but no one told me that there were periodicals I should be looking for.”

No one answered for a moment, so Hermione said, “I’m right, aren’t I?  It’s a, a professional publication, isn’t it?  For witches and wizards?”

“Yes,” said the girl with the sister.  But nothing more.

When she didn’t add anything else, Hermione turned to Sally-Anne.  “So, um, you’re also from a nor—I mean, a non-magical family?  Which books did you start off reading, when you got your letter?  I’ve been trying to read up some on magical theory, of course, but Mummy—but my Mum and Dad—they thought that I should mostly concentrate on magical history, to give me some context, you know.   So I’ve read _Hogwarts, a History,_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century,_ and ever so many more!  Which have you read, Sally-Ann?”

Sally-Anne looked a little worried.  “Was—was I s’posed to? “

“Goodness, didn’t you want to find out everything you could?   I did,” Hermione said proudly.  “I’ve read the first twenty books on the list Professor Flitwick gave me when I asked him for it.  And I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course—have you? “

Now Sally-Anne looked outright scared.  “We were s’posed to?”

The pigtailed girl sitting on the far side of Sally-Anne said firmly.  “Well, none of the rest of us have, Sally-Anne.”  She looked around at the others, and they all nodded emphatically.

Hermione wasn’t sure what to say.  Mummy and Daddy, and the teachers, always said, try your hardest, and be proud of how well you do.  But this girl sounded like she was proud that she _hadn’t._  

So Hermione tried asking the pigtailed girl, “So—so what’s your favorite spell, then?  I’ve tried several from the books, just for practice, and they’ve all worked perfectly for me.  But of course they were all quite simple.  What’s your favorite one to use?”

The pigtailed girl didn’t answer, but the girl in the corner drawled, “Well, my dad showed me a really good one.  It’s to shut up show-offs.  Unfortunately, I don’t quite have it down yet.” 

People liked it if you were helpful.  Hermione offered quickly, “Oh, perhaps you can show me and I can help you with it—I’m really quite good at helping other people learn, my last school appointed me a Peer Tutor—“ 

The other girls stared at each other and then burst out laughing.  Meanly. 

Hermione realized belatedly that the other girl’s comment might have been meant as, well, an insult.  If so, then that Patsy was just being rude!  Hermione’s Mummy had told her that she should show that she was above such people by pretending that she hadn’t understood.  Cheeks burning, Hermione cast about for another topic of conversation.

“So, so…  _Hogwarts, a History_ says Hogwarts has over a hundred ghosts!  Isn’t that ever so interesting?  Plus a poltergeist, which of course is not really the same thing as a ghost.” 

No one looked interested in that information.  Hermione tried again.  “And it says that every house has its own ghost!  Isn’t that strange, like a ghost is standard equipment?”

No one answered.  Hermione bit her lip.  “Professor Flitwick told me about the four houses, and of course _Hogwarts, a History_ has more about them. But he didn’t say which house was the best house.  What do you think?”

Mummy always said, show an interest in other people’s opinions.

And this time it worked. 

The girl with the sister said doubtfully, “Well, Ravenclaw’s best if being smart is most important to you.  Hufflepuff’s better for—”

The girl in the corner interrupted her, coming to life for the first time.  “Oh, no, Mandy, Granger here already _knows_ all about what the different houses are _like_.  She just wants to know which one is the _best_ one to be in.  And I’d say,” she looked swiftly around the compartment, “Gryffindor.  Yes, definitely Gryffindor.”

Mandy traded a look with her, then looked at Hermione.  “Oh, that’s true, I hadn’t thought of it like that.  Yes, if you’re looking for the _best_ house, Granger, Gryffindor is definitely it.” 

Hermione smiled, relieved.  She’d got them talking to her!  “Why is it the best house, Patsy?”

“Pansy.   And, well, for one thing, they say the headmaster himself had been in that house.  And I’m sure you know all about Dumbledore, don’t you, Granger?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered eagerly, “he had a whole chapter in _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century,_ about how he defeated the dark wizard Grindelwald and—”

She broke off.  Pansy was whispering something to Mandy, and Mandy was giggling.  It was rude of them to ask and then not even listen to the answer!

But then Pansy looked back at her and smiled.  “Well, there you have it.  Dumbledore was a hero, and Gryffindor is the house for heroes.  It’s for the bravest, and I’m sure you’re brave.  You’re not a sissy, are you, Granger?” 

Hermione shook her head, sitting up straighter.

Pansy went on, “Besides, I don’t think you’d like the other houses much.  Slytherin, for instance… well, Slytherin is really mostly the house for Purebloods.  You’d have a problem fitting in, and not the kind of problem studying harder could fix.  You wouldn’t like that.”

Millie stopped petting her cat, and leaned forward, looking confused.  “But the head of house is—”

Pansy gave Millie a hard look.  “ _Granger here_ would have a problem fitting in, in Slytherin.  Don’t you agree?”

“Oh,” Millie said slowly.  “I s’pose that’s right.”

The pigtailed girl offered thoughtfully, “And Hufflepuff’s dormitory is in the dungeons.  You wouldn’t like that, all dark and everything.”

Millie added, “So’s Slytherin’s, I’ve heard.”

Hermione said, “That’s right! _Hogwarts, a History,_ tells about that.  It seems strange, really, to put two of the houses in the dungeons.  I suppose, just from a hygienic standpoint, the other two houses would be better—they’re housed in towers, aren’t they?”

Pansy looked at Mandy.  “Still, Gryffindor is the best house of all, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes.  Definitely.  Dumbledore’s old house and everything.  Ravenclaw hasn’t got a patch on Gryffindor.”

 

The ice had been broken, so now they were all friends, right?  Only, no one seemed to want to talk to Hermione further.  The pigtailed girl started talking to Sally-Anne in a low voice, and Pansy and Mandy kept whispering and giggling together, and even Millie was playing with her cat and ignoring Hermione. 

Well, Hermione had really wanted to get more studying done.  She’d lied a little, earlier—well, not lied, just fudged a little bit. She hadn’t completely memorized _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection._ Or _all_ of the thousand herbs in Spore’s book.

It would be good to finish that.  Hermione was glad to think that she’d be given the time.

Sally-Anne murmured something about the empty cages, which Hermione had been wondering about herself.  The pigtailed girl said, “Well, see, my owl is a bit young, and my family lives in the south of England.  If you live farther north, and your owl is well-trained, it’s happier just meeting you at Hogwarts.  Your owl can always find you.  You’ll see, Sally-Anne, when you get one for yourself....”

Hermione shut their conversation out to focus on the page she was reading.

 

When the trolley lady came by, Hermione crowded into the corridor with the others to see what was on the cart.  She had a sensible lunch packed, of course, but her parents had given her some exchanged money and told her she could buy herself a drink.  But the trolley lady didn’t have anything like milky tea or even milk, only a selection of strange sweets.  Hermione tried to tell the other girls how bad sugar was for the teeth, but they didn’t seem to care.  So she ate her lunch and then went and brushed her teeth carefully afterwards.  And changed into her school robes, because Mandy had mentioned casually to Pansy that her sister had told her they’d arrive not too long after lunch, and that there was always a run on the loo to change in privacy. 

It was good that Hermione had so much time to read; she could maybe even finish _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ on the trip.  But this wasn’t like reading quietly in a compartment by herself; the other girls’ chattering and giggling kept distracting her.  Only, it would be rude to tell them to be quieter, it wasn’t like this was a library, where there was a rule that they should be quiet.  And Hermione didn’t want to be rude to them, even if that Pansy had maybe been rude to her.

So it was a relie—a welcome distraction—when there was a knock on their door, followed by a round, fearful face attached to a hesitating boy their own age.  “Excuse me,” he said, “but I’ve lost my toad.  You lot haven’t seen him, have you?”

He blinked at them.  He seemed to be holding back tears.

Pansy looked at him in cool disfavor.  “Longbottom, isn’t it?  No, we haven’t.”

The pigtailed girl added, “My owl or Millie’s cat would have notified us if another familiar had entered.  And they haven’t, so he hasn’t.” 

The boy nodded at that and started to withdraw. Hermione sprang up.  “Wait!  You’ve lost something?  A toad?  I can help you look—I’m good at finding lost things.” 

The boy gaped at her.  Hermione thought he looked like he might be a little dim.  But that was all right.  She was smart enough for two.    And people liked it when you helped them.

When the Granger’s canary had been lost, Mummy had said that Hermione had been ever so helpful in the search.  Hermione had stayed organized and on-task, Mummy had said, and most people weren’t, when they were upset.  She'd just bet this boy hadn't been.

As the door slid shut behind them, Hermione thought she heard another burst of giggles.  She ignored them, saying loftily, “I’m Hermione Granger; who are you?”

“Neville Longbottom,” the dim boy said, offering his hand automatically.  “Pleased to meet you.”

She explained to him earnestly, “The most important thing, when you’re searching for something, is to be very, very organized.  So we’ll go down one side and up the next, one compartment at a time.  That way we’re sure not to miss anything.  We’ve done mine, so this one should be next on our list.”

“I already—” Neville said, but Hermione was already pushing through the door of the compartment next to hers.  A ginger boy had joined the black-haired one in there. 

Hermione just loved being helpful.

“Has anyone seen a toad?” she asked the two boys importantly.  “Neville’s lost one.”

 

 


End file.
